


Let the Chips Fall

by missericorde



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Light Bondage, Oral Sex, PWP, Rape/Non-con Elements, Unhealthy Relationships, reader and reaper have a weird relationship, reader is a sex agent for talon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 02:58:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8827810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missericorde/pseuds/missericorde
Summary: Even among those aware of the inner workings of Talon, the masked mercenary in the black hood is something of a legendary figure. It’s said that save for a few more notable, useful members, anyone is liable to be gunned down by him, friend or foe.You become food, they say, to the ghost. To death itself, cold and unfeeling and unendingly hungry.However-You know the man they call Reaper is anything but unfeeling. In fact, he’s the most vindictive, petty person you know.





	

Even among those aware of the inner workings of Talon, the masked mercenary in the black hood is something of a legendary figure. It’s said that save for a few more notable, useful members, anyone is liable to be gunned down by him, friend or foe.  
  
You become food, they say, to the ghost. To death itself, cold and unfeeling and unendingly hungry.  
  
However-  
  
You know the man they call Reaper is anything but unfeeling. In fact, he’s the most vindictive, petty person you know.  
  
You tell him this one day: “You’re very human, sometimes.”  
  
The cold steel grip of his claws dig into the flesh of your thighs. It stings. Your blindfold is tight, too tight – you think he does it on purpose. You’re all too aware of the sound of your own breathing, of the metal breaking your skin, of your goosebumps and anticipation.  
  
He growls low and his hands are on your knees, pulling your legs apart and exposing you to the cool ambient air of the room. You shiver.  
  
Death is cold, but Reaper’s mouth is always hot. You still don’t know what he looks like, but you feel the tickle of stubble on your inner thighs as he licks a line up your slit and lets the tip of his tongue circle around your clit. You’re wet; even moreso after he tied you up and gropes and touches you for what felt like hours.  
  
You hear rustling, and then there’s three fingers in you all of a sudden, thrusting and you’re so relieved to be filled, finally, that you forget that you’re not supposed to enjoy this and let out a low moan. He doesn’t stop sucking at your clit even after the orgasm comes, his fingers striking at that one particular spot that makes it hard to think straight, again and again.  
  
He slows. All you can hear is your own panting, and the wet sounds of his fingers pulling out of you and thrusting back in. You think about how this scene must look – you, blindfolded, wrists bound, legs spread, your pussy wrapped tightly around his fingers as he idly palms one of your breasts and wraps his lips around a nipple.  
  
The second one comes slower, pleasure snowballing until he drags the pad of his thumb against your clit and pushes you over the edge.  
  
You know he’s genuinely annoyed when he hoists your legs over his shoulders and drags the third orgasm out of you with his tongue. You try not to push your hips against his mouth. It takes a lot out of you. His tongue plunges into you and _oh god, the sounds_ it makes as it swirls against your wet folds. Every so often, he returns to your clit, giving it a harsh suck or pushing the flat of his tongue against it, and it isn’t long before your breath hitches again and you let out a whine, head thrown back and arms straining against your bonds.  
  
He slowly lowers you back onto the bed.  
  
As you feel the straps on your wrist become undone, he makes sure to kiss you. You’re boneless, far too sluggish to resist him. His lips are rough and chapped and you can taste yourself on his tongue as he leaves you hot and breathless yet again.  
  
There are stars in your vision as the blindfold comes off. His back is to you, a clear dismissal.  
  
“Are you done?” you ask, hating how shaky your voice sounds with post-orgasmic lethargy.  
  
“I’m good,” he replies in that gravelly, ridiculous voice of his. “Are you?”  
  
And you know you’re most _certainly_ not good, that you want him to bend you over and put his thick cock in you and fuck you so hard you forget your own name, but you can’t say that. That would be admitting defeat.  
  
Maybe he knows this too. You’re pretty sure he does, because you can feel the petty smugness in his voice as he tosses your clothes onto your belly.  
  
“I’m good.”  
  
_Such a hateful man._  


* * *

It’s a rather idle day for you when the two of you meet.  
“You,” he says, appearing before you in a surge of black mist, roughly grabbing your arm and dragging you out of the common room.  
  
You weren’t aware death had a sex drive, you think as you drop your magazine rather hopelessly glance at your roommate and closest thing to a friend in the hell known as Talon.  
  
Well, it’s hard to call Talon _hell_ after what they’d done to you – rather, it's more like an everlasting purgatory.  
  
Even at your position, you knew of Reaper, which was why you never expected him to request your services. Even the missions you were sent on were starkly different. The white avian mask and black hood and proclivity towards murder hardly lent itself to espionage.  
  
He’s led you to what is likely his bedroom. You don’t know what you were expecting, but there’s a surprising amount of clutter in it. Souvenirs from the places he’s been, a collection of literature, and what appears to be a collection of human skulls.  
  
“Sir,” you say, because it’d be awkward if you were mistaken. “Is this related to mission work?”  
  
“What does it look like?”  
  
“Ah.” A mission just for you, then.  
  
Your hands are on his belt as he grabs both your wrists, his claws digging into your skin. You wince.  
  
“The door’s not even closed yet,” he says.  
  
Does it even matter? You want to ask, but it wouldn’t do to backtalk your patrons, particularly not this one. So you let him shut the door. And then he lets you take off his belt.  
  
You wonder what type of things Reaper was into, and hope it isn’t too depraved – your body has been modified, but you’re still very capable of feeling pain.  
  
His cock is among the better-looking ones you’ve seen. It’s rather thick, you think, as you kiss the tip before taking it into your mouth. You let your saliva drip over it and feel it grow hard under your tongue.  
  
A hand grips your hair, and the bite of metal against your scalp is decidedly unpleasant. Aside from that, it’s not entirely unfamiliar – he’s hardly gentle as he thrusts against the back of your throat. Eventually, your lips are pressed against the base of his cock. He chuckles.  
  
“Well done,” he says, and you wonder if everything he says is so condescending. “Though, that’s to be expected, isn’t it? Slut.”  
  
You swallow around him, and he lets out a low growl before sliding out of your mouth. “Clothes off.”  
  
With a polite smile, you unzip your bodysuit and let it fall to the ground. Underwear quickly follows. You lie back, reach between your open legs and spread the lips of your labia apart for him.  
  
“Pretty enough to eat,” he says. “Maybe another time.”  
  
He’s thoughtful enough to take the claws off before gripping at your hips. “You’re plenty wet already.”  
  
The tip of his cock circles against your entrance for a moment, before he plunges into you completely. He really _is_ wide, and you surprise yourself by gasping. His breathing is heavy as he stills. “So _tight_.”  
  
Then he’s thrusting into you, pulling completely out before pushing back in. And if you weren’t the way you were, it’d be downright _lovely_ , because he’s inexplicably great at hitting the spot in you that makes you want to beg for more.  
  
Except he doesn’t last very long – they never do. As you force your hips back against him, he lets out a single stuttering gasp and you feel him fill you.  
  
He sags a bit, and you extricate yourself from his grip, picking up your clothes off the ground. He doesn’t seem like the cuddling type, so you step back into your suit.  
  
He stirs, like he’s at a loss for words.  
  
“You’re not done yet,” he says.  
  
You weren’t expecting him to care.  
  
“Oh, don’t worry about me,” you say, zipping up your bodysuit and stuffing your underwear into a pocket. “You don’t exactly go to a restaurant and worry about cleaning up the dishes, right? I’m sure you’re a busy man.”  
  
You give him a little wave and a sardonic smile as you step back into your boots and open his door. “Have a nice day, sir.”  
  
As you regain your bearings, you plot the most direct route from his room to the showers, throwing the memory of the experience aside to be forgotten.  
  
It is the first of many mistakes you will make concerning Reaper.  
  


* * *

  
Four days later, you encounter him again.  
  
Rather, he ambushes you on your walk to the canteen during dinnertime and pulls you into a closet. It’s rather annoying, because you’re hungry, but you suppose work comes first.  
It’s dark in the closet.  
  
“Ever the professional, aren’t you.” It’s not really a question. He rolls his hips, and you can feel him hard against your backside.  
“Excuse me?”  
  
His voice is in your ear. You can feel his breath against your neck.  
  
“I read your file.” He tugs your jumpsuit off your shoulders, and makes short work of your bra. A hand, an actual flesh hand, cups your breast and tweaks the nipple between index finger and thumb. “The more I thought about you, the more it pissed me off. You were cheating.”  
  
He read your file? What? He’s thinking way too much about a casual fuck.  
  
It’s not until he presses his lips against your neck (it’s hard to think about how Reaper actually has a _face_ , too) that you realize.  
  
He’s upset he finished before you.  
  
You exhale sharply to hide the laugh. It’s almost endearing. Almost.  
  
“Sir, is it cheating if you kill someone with guns instead than your bare hands?”  
  
He growls. “I can do both.”  
  
Your jumpsuit hits the floor, and he basically rips your underwear off you.  
  
Two fingers dip into you. “You really do have the perfect body for fucking.” He pumps them in and out of you, gathering your wetness and circling your clit with it. You gasp as he tweaks your nipple.  
  
“Why do you even care?” you ask, annoyed, because he’s making you feel a sugary-sweet kind of feeling that you don’t like. Because it’s like he said. You’re a professional.  
  
“I’m a bad loser,” he says, and suckles on your neck, scissoring his fingers inside of you before adding a third.  
  
“You’re not-“ he’s not _being fair_ , “supposed to think about me.”  
  
While it’s very rare for you to finish when you were being fucked by a others – it had happened more often when you were starting out on the job – when you did, it was more of a coin flip, rather than any consideration on your partner’s part.  
  
To them, you’re essentially a sex object, except living and warm. You’re almost grateful that your fluids are a drug. There’s a part of you that doesn’t feel comfortable with enjoying the life that Talon has forced you into. So it doesn’t bother you that you rarely orgasm.  
  
“If you’re still thinking enough to complain, I’m not doing this right,” Reaper says, biting into your neck. He removes his fingers, and you’re annoyed by how they’re not in you anymore. That you even want them in you. At Reaper. “Grab onto the shelf.”  
  
You do so.  
  
He lifts one leg so that you’re practically doing a split, and he shoves his cock into you and oh, this angle suits you really well, it seems. He’s rubbing your clit and thrusting slowly, way too slowly, and it’s cruel and frustrating.  
  
Maybe, in another timeline where you were a normal person, you’d be the type to beg your lover, to shake your hips and drool with pleasure.  
  
But since you’re you, you just exhale. He sucks at your neck and speeds up, and you can’t help but tighten around his fat cock as it scrapes at your cunt.  
  
“Come on, Agent,” he mocks, thrusting against you hard and fast. His fingers haven’t left your clit, and you can’t hide your low moans and whimpers now. There’s a heat building in your stomach that you haven’t felt in a long while. “Come for me.”  
  
The sound you make is strangled and almost pained as the hot pleasure overtakes you. He’s quite strong, and keeps you upright as you slump sluggishly against him. He thrusts faster and faster as you clench around him, hand leaving your oversensitive clit to tease your breast again. Teeth sink into your neck hard enough to draw blood as he bottoms out in you and you’re flooded with his cum again.  
  
The two of you still, and it’s silent save for your panting, before he releases your leg. You slump to the floor, knees weak without his support.  
  
“I’ll call you,” he says, and disappears in a swirl of mist.  
  
You feel like maybe you're in a bit over your head.  
  
“I can’t wait,” you say to an empty closet.

**Author's Note:**

> since finals are fucking me really hard I just. wrote this
> 
> how??? do you write reaper? like I wanted this to be somewhat serious but it was So Hard to not just write him full memelord. anyways, hope you enjoyed this, not sure if it's interesting enough to be continued, thanks for reading!


End file.
